It had been three long, lonely years since Wallace Dewberry had lost his beloved wife, Alicia. Since her death, life for him had become a dreary monotone of unexciting events, simple events that held no semblance of adventure nor any satisfaction of accomplishment. His current boring outing consisted only of a short three block walk to the store to buy milk and butter. Could anything be more mundane? Well, perhaps he would have rethought the question had he but known who, on this particular short jaunt to the store, would be watching Wallace walk.

Alicia was being allowed one last look at the life she had left behind. Her choice, of course, was to see her darling Wallace again. From this heavenly viewpoint all earthly things could be seen. She would also be able to hear any spiritual voices that spoke to Wallace but she would not be able to see the spirits. The only other thing she would see is what was known as “The Path”, a narrow, blue line that stretched several yards in front of each human being on the face of the Earth. Each person, she had been told, had his own personal Path, given by God at creation. Humans had thought of this path as ‘pre-destination’, but in reality it only showed the path leading to the best God had to offer. Nobody was forced to follow this Path but all heaven understood that it was always best if it did get followed. She could see the blue line in front of Wallace. Her wonderful husband was following the line right out the front door of their apartment. Good for him.

Wallace stepped out the front door and swatted a fly away from his face. He glanced at his shoes. Great, one of them had already come untied. With a disgusted huff, he sat down on the step and began tying his shoe lace. As he tied, the newspaper boy tossed his missile from the bag on the side of his bicycle, zooming just above Wallace’s head.

“Hey, Kid,” Wallace yelled, “Be careful how you throw those things!”

“Look down at your shoes, Wallace.” The voice seemed to come from nowhere so Alicia looked at her Angel, quizzically.

“Don’t be concerned.” Her angel whispered, “You are only hearing his Guardian Angel trying to persuade him to tie his shoe.” She saw Wallace sit and tie and then yell at the newspaper boy. Her angel smiled and what she had not noticed. “He followed the blue line and listened to his angel. Had he not, that paper would have hit him squarely in the temple and he would have been rushed to the hospital with a serious concussion.”

Wallace set a leisurely pace on the left side of the sidewalk. He wondered if he should be on the right side instead. Maybe there was some standard guideline for such things. He slid over to the right and continued his walk, amused by the childish pondering. He felt a dull ‘THUD’ on top of his ball cap. As he removed it anger flushed his face. A bird sitting in the had left a reminder that nobody was safe from aerial attack. Goodbye, favorite cap.

“Hey, Stoopid! Walk on the right side where you belong.”

Alicia was shocked by the voice she heard. It wasn’t the same voice that had told Wallace to look at his shoes. This voice was harsh, sinister.

“Don’t be surprised.” her angel said. “The enemy is just as determined to get him off the Path as we are to keep him on it. It is always Wallace’s choice, though, on who he allows to influence him.”

“Well,” she said, in awe. “He shouldn’t have listened that time. His cap is ruined!”

The walk to the store was nearly over. Wallace was passing by the old church building where Alicia had gotten saved. She had become a different woman after that. But she never did stop nagging about his need to get saved. Never.

“Wallace, please, PLEASE promise me you will give Jesus a chance.”

Alicia gasped. “That was MY voice!” she said.

Her angel smiled. “He is remembering things you said to him about Jesus. And Alicia, look at the blue path line.”

She looked, and wept. It had made a sharp turn to the left . . . into the open door of the church.

“Alicia,” the angel said, “congratulations on being the biggest influence in Wallace’s life.”

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